Nothing Else Matters
by TWbasketcase
Summary: SLASH. Takes place in season four between 'Impact' and 'No Good Deed'. Pietro learns the news of Magneto's death, and lets his emotions get the better of him...which leads to an altercation at home. LancePietro. Lietro. Don't read if mm offends you.


**Title**: Nothing Else Matters  
**Author**: TWBasketcase  
_**Rated**__**: M for language and sexuality**_  
**Summary**: Set after the season four opener 'Impact'. Pietro returns home after getting the news of his father's death, and his reaction surprises one of his housemates.  
**Disclaimer**: I do not own X-Men: Evolution or any characters seen here.

**A/N**: This is _**slash**_, so if you don't like that you shouldn't read this. The pairing is Lance/Pietro **and there will be M/M sexuality**. BTW, Lance and Kitty were broken up at this time, so I don't really have to worry about her.

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**Nothing Else Matters**

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Magneto was dead. 

The thought went barreling through his mind at a speed that even he would be envious of. Charles Xavier had summoned him to meet him so that he could tell Pietro the news personally. He had been there after all, and saw the whole thing in front of his very eyes.

The Professor - he supposed - was nice enough to let him find out that way rather than from someone else. The older guy must have thought that Magneto's death would impact his children in a negative way - that they would be crushed…or something.

But he wasn't. Pietro Maximoff didn't feel a god damned thing. His father, his own flesh and blood, had been completely obliterated at the hands of some larger than life mutant. His dad was dead, and yet it didn't even tug at his heart.

Pietro began to walk down the long road that the Xavier Institute was located on. Really he could have ran and gotten home in nearly half the time it would've taken him, but he couldn't even summon the energy in his body to do so. He was in no rush; no one was going to tell him he needed to be somewhere anytime soon. He could walk down the road and kick at the gravel, feel the air, and let it rain down on his pretty head.

He now had the freedom to do that.

No longer would Magneto be there to tell him he needed to stay sheltered. Nor would the man be able to pry him from his home - away from his friends, away from his sister - to do his dirty work for him. Pietro now had complete control over himself and his actions, and we would be damned if he would not use that to his advantage.

Nearly all of his life he had been pinned under his father's thumb. Magneto was a scientist and had a major interest in all things mutant related. As children, Pietro and Wanda were often subjected to their father's tests. Hell, Pietro was almost positive that Wanda's out of control and explosive powers had been the direct fault of their father. Pietro had watched in horror as Wanda had been torn away from their home and thrown into an asylum for the mentally insane. Wanda had been far from insane at eight years old; she was just a failed experiment gone wrong that his father no longer had any control over.

She was tossed aside like a piece of garbage, and was then brainwashed to believe that their father was the greatest man to ever walk the Earth.

The thought made him sick.

Magneto was no better to Pietro either. Tossing Wanda into the asylum triggered a fear inside of him that he couldn't even describe. Pietro felt that at any moment he would next fall victim to Magneto's abandonment, and that perhaps he would be left to rot away in a dirty cell for the rest of his life. That one particular fact scarred Pietro still, and even now his fear of abandonment and loathing stayed with him -- which is why he supposed he still had no problem going along with everything Magneto had asked him to. The speedster wasn't entirely sure what lengths the man would go to, and frankly Pietro didn't want to know. He just did what he was told like a good little soldier, and took the crap that came along with it.

It was better than being locked away, or getting his brains scrambled -- or worse.

Now Magneto was dead, and Pietro wondered briefly if those fears would ever go away. During the short few years he was in foster care he never stayed in one place long enough to find out. Every place he was designated to was short lived, and after only a few months he would be dumped off to the next couple looking for an extra monthly cheque. The abandonment never stopped. No one ever stood by his side long enough to give him something to hope for; they never gave him love, so his fears could never subside. At the age of eighteen, the silver haired boy was pretty sure he'd forgotten what it felt like to even feel loved.

Had he ever felt loved?

He brushed at his face angrily with the sleeve of his shirt when he realized that his cheeks were being splashed with hot tears. He loathed himself for letting his thoughts get to him that way; if his father saw him at that moment crying like a baby because no one loved him, he would definitely be berated and ridiculed. A shaky sigh escaped his lips, and he blinked away the pain. Even in death, his father's punishments still bore on his mind like a hundred pound weight. He needed to let go and move on.

He needed to be tough; if he let himself feel like a little pussy then his father would win. Pietro needed to tell himself that despite all the horrible things the old bastard had made him feel that someday, in fact, he would find what he was looking for. Perhaps he couldn't remember love or companionship, but that didn't mean he would never find it.

Shoes skidded to a halt in the gravel at the bottom of the boarding house driveway; Pietro hadn't even noticed that he had indeed begun running. Thoughts were racing though his mind so fast that his surroundings had become momentarily ignored. The light rain that had started during his visit to Xavier's turned into a torrential downpour, leaving him soaked and broken staring up at a beaten down safe house.

He could've had a family there; until Magneto had decided to form the Acolytes, that is.

The boys at the boarding house sometimes argued, sometimes they even fought with their fists; Pietro had been no stranger to the angry wrestling matches in the living room when one of them got pissed off enough. They fought over food, the television - sometimes they just fought to make themselves feel better. If an outsider were to look in on them Pietro guaranteed that they would probably think homicide was going on. However the boys knew they could rely on each other to release stress, or anger, and they would always have each other's backs no matter what.

However since Magneto had decided to interfere and have him betray the Brotherhood to team up with his Acolytes, things had not been the same. The boys no longer shared their problems with him. They didn't trust him; they didn't even want to hang out with him. Pietro heard every threat and insult that came out of their mouths toward him; it wasn't like they made any effort to hide it.

And then there was Wanda. She got along with him well and stuck up for him no matter what the other boys said. Every time she did it it only broke his heart more. Wanda had no grounds to stand up for him; Pietro had let their father violate her mind and her life, and sat back and did nothing to help her. If it had been the real Wanda sitting in and listening to the rest of the Brotherhood boys talk, she would be laughing and name calling right along with them - he was absolutely sure of that.

And he knew that he deserved it one hundred percent.

The last light on the upper floor of the house went out, and the Brotherhood domain was finally enveloped in darkness. It was rare when all of them were in bed at a decent hour, but tonight Pietro was thankful that they would all be sleeping. He needed to be alone. With all the conflicting emotions surging through him, he was unsure how well he would react in someone else's presence…and with the way they had been ignoring him lately, he was pretty sure the outcome would be bad anyhow.

He raised a shaky hand to his forehead and raked back the sopping wet strands of hair that were stuck there. His clothing was pretty well soaked through, and clung to his body uncomfortably. A reflection wasn't needed to tell him that he looked as cold and lost as he felt. With a deep sigh, he made his way up the short driveway and to the front door of the old house.

Unsurprisingly, the old wooden door was left unlocked - as it was every night - and he had to jiggle the broken knob a few times to get it to cooperate. As quietly as he could he pushed it open and stepped inside, and just as quickly closed it behind him again. With no heat source, the night air was just as cool indoors as it'd been outside. Summer was still a few weeks away, Pietro could feel how cold it was, and being sopping wet didn't help matters any for him. He sniffled unconsciously and wiped the moisture from his face.

"I didn't expect you to come home," a deep voice sounded through the darkness of the house, and it literally made Pietro jump.

"Why the hell are you sitting in the dark?" he hissed back in reply. The voice obviously belonged to Lance, and from what Pietro gathered, he was sitting in the living room. He walked the five steps to the entryway and glared at the silhouetted figure.

He sat up from his laying position on the couch and tossed his blanket to the side. "I _was_ trying to sleep."

Pietro scrunched up his face. "You have a bed, don't you?"

A scoff was heard, and soon Lance was approaching him. "I can lie wherever I damn well please. Is there a problem with that?"

Pietro backed up and glared. "Did I say there was? Fuck, Lance, what's your problem?"

The older boy just stared him down; Pietro could only see half of his face in the darkness. The window allowed in a small amount of moonlight, and the speedster was inwardly thankful for it. Lance, however, made no effort to answer his question and just turned on his heel and headed back to the couch. As testy as he was, Pietro sensed that there wasn't as nearly as much anger in the rock tumbler's words as there recently had been. The silver haired teen hoped that maybe it was a sign that his friend was ready to lay off a bit.

Lance slumped down on the couch and turned the television on; the screen cast a blue glow on the room that finally allowed the boys to see one another. Lance was only wearing a torn up Metallica t-shirt and a pair of grey boxer shorts. His hair was more unruly than usual, and he had bags under his eyes; he looked like shit. Dark orbs moved to look at Pietro. "Why're you here?"

"Because I live here," Pietro scoffed. "Is it a crime that I stay here, or am I not welcomed?"

Lance's mouth fell into an annoyed frown. "Just thought that you took off again; you were off fightin' with the _cool_ guys."

"I was here this afternoon," Pietro pointed out.

Lance snorted. "Yeah, to drop off the cement corpse of Mystique. Thanks for that, by the way."

Pietro's mouth twisted into an angry scowl. "What makes you think that I even want to fight with those guys?"

"Because apparently you're just that much better than the rest of us losers," Lance retorted.

Pietro shifted his weight, squishing the water under his shoes into the carpet. "You sit there and act like a whiney little bitch like that and yet you wonder."

Lance glared dangerously at him. "You need to cut it out with the fucking head games! You're here, then you're not, you try and act like a bud, then you act like a dick. What the fuck do you want from us?" he clenched his fists at his sides in what Pietro thought was a way to control his power. "How do I know you're not just going to take off again tomorrow, huh?"

Pietro swallowed. "I'm not going to."

"Yeah, like I believe you," Lance sighed angrily.

"Why do you even care?" Pietro hissed. "Last I checked you guys didn't give one shit if I was gone."

Lance stared at him from his spot on the couch. "You used to be a friend."

"Could've fooled me," the speedster scoffed and took a few steps forward. "If you were any kind of a friend then you wouldn't be acting this way."

"I think," Lance started, that sad frown creeping up on him again. "You have a pretty good idea why I act this way."

He did. Pietro knew it was _all_ his fault, but he was just too much of an arrogant little bitch to say it out loud. He wanted to so badly just break down, and fall at Lance's feet and tell him how much of a spineless little shit he was -- and tell him how sorry he was --but Pietro Maximoff had way too much pride. He cleared his throat, and tried to say something -- to say anything at all. "I…"

Lance stared at him. "You know why."

"Magneto's dead," Pietro blurted out suddenly. His tongue betrayed everything his brain was telling him to say, and now he wanted to smack himself.

"What?!" Lance sat up straighter. "How? When?"

Pietro blinked. "Today. Apocalypse ripped him apart."

Lance slowly rose from his seat and approached him. "Are you okay? I mean…I'm sorry that you lost your…"

"Don't," Pietro snapped in frustrated confusion. How the hell could Lance go from angry and betrayed to mothering in a matter of seconds? No one comforted Quicksilver…no cared enough to.

"Pie, look man, I didn't know…" he stumbled over his words and placed a hand on Pietro's cold, wet shoulder.

The speed demon hated that he acted so sincere and apologetic; he didn't need that. Pietro did not care that Magneto was dead. His death was a good thing; all that happened was his father had left him behind one last time to be alone and miserable. After all the crap that came of it, Lance shouldn't be there apologizing.

However, the frustrated emotions couldn't be controlled, and soon Pietro felt hot, angry tears welling up in his eyes. He shrugged Lance's hand off of his shoulder roughly and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. "Why the hell do you even care, huh Lance?" he hissed the angry words quietly; they were only inches apart. "You didn't give a fuck before, so don't start acting all sorry on me now."

Hurt passed across Lance's features, and he quickly grabbed Pietro's shirt and shoved him back a few feet. "I'm not the one who ran out. I'm just trying to be your friend."

Pietro cursed as the tears he tried so desperately to blink back began to fall. "Why?"

Lance looked genuinely confused. "Why wouldn't I, Pie? We may've been fighting, but I never stopped caring. You just lost your dad…I'm not that much of a dick."

Pietro sniffed and wiped angrily at his face with his sleeve. "Fuck him."

"What?" he stepped forward again.

Pietro glared and clenched his fists. "I said _fuck him_. I hope he rots in hell."

"But I…why?" Lance was beginning to lose his patience. "Why would you say something like that? What's wrong with you, Pietro?"

Pietro's eyes narrowed and he felt a sudden wave of anger come over him. "Because he was nothing but a fucking tyrant, okay? He got what was coming to him and I'm happy!" he let out a crazed laugh and roughly shoved Lance away from him. "Fuck him, and fuck you too, Alvers."

Lance glared and shoved him right back. "Are you insane? You need to settle down!"

Pietro's anger finally boiled over and he threw himself at Lance fists first. With his speed, Lance didn't even see him coming, and toppled over when Pietro's fist connected with his face. However, the older boy didn't waste any time retaliating; years spent in a boys home made sure of that. Lance clutched both sides of Pietro's head between his hands and roughly threw him to the floor, and proceeded to climb on top of him and slam his head down to the ground. Pietro kicked and clawed at him, but Lance's weight was too much. Pietro glared at him before spitting in his face. "Fuck you!"

Lance rubbed his cheek along the top of his shoulder and glared right back "Calm down!"

"I will fucking kill you if you don't get off of me, Alvers," Pietro growled and squirmed some more. "I've gotten along fine without you mothering me." Once again, the speed demon brought his hands up and began clawing and slapping at Lance's face in an attempt to push him away.

"Shut the fuck up!" the rock tumbler hissed. "You're gonna wake everyone up!"

Pietro bit his lip and continued to struggle until finally Lance geared back and punched him in the cheek just below his eye. Pietro winced at the contact and stopped moving completely. Fast, rapid breaths escaped his lips, and he moved his still tearful gaze up to look at Lance. "Why…what…ow! Whatdidyoudothatforyoubigfuckingjerk?"

Lance placed his hands back on both sides of Pietro's face and bent down so his face was only an inch away from the speed demon's. "I'm sorry."

A new trail of tears slid down the sides of Pietro's face as Lance's eyes stared into his. So many emotions reflected in those chocolate brown orbs: guilt, hurt, sadness, remorse, care…so many things that Pietro rarely saw in other people. The things he never saw in his father…the things he missed for so long.

Lance leaned forward and put his forehead against Pietro's gently. "I'm sorry, okay?" he whispered; Pietro could feel his hot breath tickle his cheek, and the gentleness of his words brought up a choked sob. Lance clutched fistfuls of his wet, messy hair gently and closed his eyes. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

Pietro lay frozen underneath the rock tumbler's body; he was transfixed by that look on his face. "I'm not going to leave," Pietro mumbled pathetically.

Lance's eyes opened and his gaze penetrated Pietro's. His fists unclenched, and his fingers spread through Pietro's drenched locks. The speedster could feel the warm sensation of his friend's breath against the bottom half of his face, and the closeness of his body brought Pietro an unexplained feeling of comfort and affection. Slowly, his hands moved up and grasped the sides of Lance's ratty t-shirt. The older boy shifted against the touch, and his gaze moved slowly down Pietro's face until it rested on his mouth.

The look in his eyes made Pietro lose all sense of what was actually going on; all he could think about was all that loneliness and fear that had paralyzed him for the past few months, and how unexpectedly it finally seemed to be slipping away. Suddenly everything seemed safe and right. He swallowed the growing lump in his throat and let Lance kiss him. The older boy brushed his lips ever so lightly against his, and pulled back again. The small contact sent jolts through the speed demon's body. His eyelids fluttered open and he watched as Lance scanned his face through heavy lidded eyes.

"I need you to stay," he whispered the words so softly that Pietro almost didn't hear them. But he did, and they were cautious, desperate words. They were needy, and that sent a chill down Pietro's spine.

The silver haired teen squeezed his eyes shut and nodded mutely before tilting his head up to catch Lance's lips again. The pressure against his face was fierce with the growing bruises there, but all the speed demon could think about was the rock tumbler's full, wet lips massaging his in a caring caress. Pietro flattened his palm against Lance's rib cage, and slowly moved it up onto his back, and along the curve of his spine until it rested on the back of his neck.

Lance let out a small moan against his lips as the speedster tangled his nimble fingers through his long, dark locks of hair. The older boy was so receptive to the touch that his kiss began to get hungrier, and Pietro soon found Lance's tongue looking for entrance into his mouth. The silver haired teen eagerly accepted it, and pushed his own tongue through Lance's lips. He wanted -- and needed -- to feel him so badly; the rock tumbler made all the bad feelings go away, and gave him a taste of everything that he so desperately yearned for.

Lance slowly pulled away just enough so that he could look at Pietro in the eye. "You're all wet."

The speed demon had forgotten all about it. "I don't…" he stopped and sucked in a sharp intake of air as Lance's warm hands slid under his sweatshirt and moved up his abdomen. The younger boy's skin was tight and goose bumpy from the rain, and Pietro couldn't help but arch his back forward to get more of the older boy's touch. With slow, careful fingers Lance traced a line from Pietro's navel and upward until he reached the center of his sternum. His other hand pushed the soaked sweater up until Pietro's entire chest was exposed. The speed demon lifted his arms up and swiftly slid the offending garment over his head, and didn't even get a chance to drop it before Lance's lips found their way to his neck and then to his collarbone. An appreciative moan escaped the speedster's lips, and he soon found himself grabbing Lance's t-shirt and pulling it over the older boy's head as well.

Lance only paused from his activity for long enough to allow the fabric to slide over his face before his lips were returned to Pietro's chest. The silver haired boy shivered at the contact and let his gaze fall to the top of the rock tumbler's head. Lance had always been so mothering, and Pietro was completely dumbfounded that the guy he could tease for hours on end could comfort him in a way like _that_. The older boy's hands were everywhere; they rubbed gently up and down the sides of Pietro's ribs, and then would venture back up his stomach until they reached his shoulders and journeyed down again. Every single touch sent bursts of excitement through the speed demon's body that made him lose himself in the sensation. His former plagued thoughts slowly slipped away and were replaced with such fierce desire to feel his friend -- to get that attention and love he craved.

Lance's dark eyes glanced at Pietro as a soft, pink tongue flicked out from between his lips and circled one of Pietro's hardened nipples. Slim fingers tugged at dark hair as the speed demon arched into the touch. A lusty smile spread across the rock tumbler's face at the sight, prompting him to move himself lower down Pietro's body. The silver haired teen could feel Lance's arousal between them; the older boy's thin boxer shorts didn't leave much to the imagination. The feeling of Lance's erection rubbing down his thighs both frightened him and exhilarated him in a way he hadn't felt before.

Quicksilver propped himself up on his elbows and watched with interest as Lance stopped and hovered over the speed demon's lap. His large, calloused hands gripped the waist band of Pietro's wet jeans, and the silver haired teen could feel the warmth of Lance's fingers against the soft flesh of his stomach. Dark eyes scanned him questionably through thick lashes, and the sight of it dried Pietro's throat out -- he could only nod in response. Thankfully Lance got the hint and gave him a shark-like grin before tearing away at the button and zipper of the uncomfortable - and quickly constricting - pants.

Even though obvious lust and hunger swirled in the rock tumbler's gaze, his hands were clearly shaky as he fought against the clothing. The small show of nerves made Pietro's stomach tighten up in self conscious fear. He was addicted to the feeling of Lance needing him…and feeling him. Pietro liked the idea of Lance being the courageous one that made him feel reassured. But the slight shake in the boy's hands made Pietro feel fearful that he didn't want this.

Lance did want this, right?

"Lance…" Pietro moaned as his jeans were yanked roughly down his legs. The rock tumbler didn't respond though, he just sat straighter as he fumbled around with Pietro's water logged shoes. Once the footwear and jeans were fully removed from the speedster's body, Lance crawled over the smaller form and pressed a lingering kiss on Pietro's lips.

"Are you okay with this?" he asked in that familiar comforting tone. The younger boy nodded against Lance's face, and the older boy kissed him again reassuringly. "I don't think I've ever seen you so quiet…" he chuckled teasingly.

And Pietro _was _quiet; he was so blown away that he couldn't form a coherent sentence even if he wanted to. He didn't even want to anyway; he was much more interested in taking that unruly hair in his fists and pushing Lance's face down to his lap. The rock tumbler just snorted at the lack of response and leaned in again to capture his mouth. Once more a gentle tongue invited its way into the speedster's mouth to explore. Pietro accepted it very willingly, and caressed the muscle with his own tongue in an accelerated fury. Lance moaned against the sudden change of pace, and pressed his body closer to Pietro's so that their bare skin made contact. The feeling made Pietro's eyes roll back in pleasure, and the elbows that had been propping him up abruptly gave out and sent him to the floor roughly.

Lance pulled away. "Are you okay?"

Pietro forced his eyes open and raised his hands to rest on either side of Lance's hips. "I'm…oh, I'm good. I'm great don'tworryaboutmejusthurryuppleasebeforeIexplode!"

Lance's eyebrows furrowed at Quicksilver's babble. "Alrighty then."

The rock tumbler dipped his face lower and pressed a line of kisses down the side of Pietro's neck, stopped momentarily at his pulse point, and then made his way down his collar bone. The older boy's hand rested hesitantly on Pietro's stomach for a few seconds before slowly making its way down the soft line of fine hair below the speedster's navel. Everything else in the room seemingly disappeared except for that hand. The silver haired teen's heart pumped violently against his chest as the larger fingers snaked their way through the small mound of pubic hair.

Once more the rock tumbler's hand paused in its trail as it hovered only an inch or so above Pietro's stiffened member. The speedster squeezed his eyes shut in nerve wracking anticipation. When Lance finally continued and traced a shy, but gentle line down the length of the erection, Pietro sucked in a sharp intake of air and felt his body relax into the hard floor beneath him. Lance stopped kissing him and focused on gripping the speedster's firm cock in his hand. Pietro only let out a low moan and fisted the bangs of his own hair in a pleasurable fit. "Oh…oh god…"

Slowly, but firmly, Lance began to pump his hand up and down the length of Pietro's shaft starting from the underside of the head and to the base. As he began to get more comfortable, he quickened his pace until he found a swift and comfortable rhythm. The silver haired teen couldn't even move; he tore at the hair on his forehead and watched the hungry gaze of Lance's eyes on his body. Never had he had someone so expertly take him before; most of the girls he'd ever tried it with fumbled, or squeezed too hard…but Lance was also a guy, so Lance knew what was good and what wasn't.

And oh, how it was _good_.

The rock tumbler finally positioned himself between Pietro's trembling legs, and laid flat on his belly. His eyes examined the fully erect cock hungrily, and before Pietro could even let out another moan, the older boy popped the head into his mouth and sucked gently.

"Holy fuck! OhgodthatfeelssofuckinggoodIcouldjustfuckyourightnowyoubitch! Fuck!" Pietro panted as Lance simultaneously pumped and sucked him off on the dirty floor of the boarding house living room. The rock tumbler let out an appreciative hum from his place, and stared at the speedster with glazed over eyes. Pietro squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of ecstasy came over him and he came into the other boy's mouth. "Oh Lance!" he groaned and clawed at his own forehead. "Oh god…"

The dark haired boy removed his mouth and gently rubbed his thumb around the tip of the head. The sensitivity caused Pietro's entire body to jerk, and the speedster smirked at him. "Don't do that! Please! God…that feels too good."

"Do you feel any better?" Lance's deep voice whispered huskily as he crawled over the small frame to look Pietro closer in the face. Pietro only panted excitedly; he felt _so_ good. All the pent up anger and frustration that had overwhelmed him that day exited through his body with his cum.

_Lance, the problem swallower._

Pietro let out a loud snort at his own thought and stared at Lance. "Where the hell did you get so good at sucking dick?"

Lance rolled his eyes and pressed his lips along Pietro's jaw line. "Is it so hard to believe I just might have natural talent?"

"You?" Pietro teased, and placed a hand on the older boy's hip. "Why would I believe that?"

Lance let out a low growl from below Pietro's face. "No, we wouldn't want you thinking about anyone else outside yourself, now would we?"

Pietro grinned and raked one hand through Lance's hair, and let the other one search for his pants. When he finally found them, he yanked his wallet from the soaked material and dug around inside of it. When Lance turned his head and saw what he was doing, he smirked. "I know I'm good, but you don't need to pay me."

Pietro rolled his eyes and grabbed a fistful of hair to force Lance to look at him. The rock tumbler's eyes were practically glazed over, and that made Pietro smirk. "No, Lance, I'm just thinking about someone outside of myself."

Lance perked an eyebrow and swallowed when Pietro slapped a condom into his hand. The older boy stared at it for a few seconds before glancing back up at Pietro. "Are…you sure about this?"

The speedster nodded and pressed his lips against Lance. "I need it. You need it…"

The older boy's features softened, and he pulled Pietro in for another breathtaking kiss. This time Pietro felt a little more confident with himself, and wrapped his arms around the other boy's neck. It turned him on so much knowing that Lance had taken his load into the same mouth that he was kissing him with, and Pietro felt he should return the favor -- as a way to let him know that he didn't want to leave again. The speedster had a feeling that if he stayed in the boarding house he could fill in that void in his life --especially now that his father was gone. He could be himself and perhaps -- maybe -- get the chance to experience more wonderful things like Lance.

Lance pressed his hips against Pietro's and let out a shaky moan. The older boy was unbearably hard, and Pietro momentarily wondered how he lasted that long without exploding. The speedster pulled away from Lance's mouth and gave him a wordless nod before sliding the older boy's boxers down his hips and past his thighs, freeing the rigid erection. The sight of it nearly froze Pietro's nerves; it was bigger than his was, and definitely ready to go. The silver haired teen had never had another man before, so the anxiety made him feel like a virgin all over again.

The rock tumbler gave him a reassuring smile and spread the speed demon's legs to allow him entry. "You just have to relax, okay Pie?"

Pietro nodded and took a deep breath, his hands never leaving the older boy's hips. Lance shakily rolled the condom down his length and positioned himself at Pietro's opening. Very slowly and carefully, he eased the very tip of his cock between the speed demon's cheeks. There was a small pressure there that made Pietro jerk slightly. "Whoa…"

"Did I hurt you?" he asked with a panicked voice.

Pietro shook his head and pulled him forward just a little more. "No…no…it's okay. Just…don't stop, please."

Lance nodded dumbly and shook his hair from his face as he eased himself in a little further. The speedster took deep breaths and focused on remaining as relaxed as possible; he tried to focus on the feeling of Lance's long hard cock penetrating him, pleasuring him, maybe even loving him. Pietro wanted only to will away the negative thoughts and concentrate on the amazing way the older boy made him feel.

Once Lance eased himself halfway in, he began to slowly thrust. One large hand gripped Pietro's hip bone, and the other tucked itself underneath the speedster's knee as Lance held the leg up. Pietro watched in perverse fascination as the older boy's head fell back and he let out a loud moan. "Oh fuck…"

Lance began to thrust a little faster as the seconds wore on, and with each one he squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the speedster tighter. Pietro couldn't believe how the sex had felt; he was so worried it would just hurt. While maybe just a little uncomfortable, it had felt wonderful. The younger boy rocked his hips and fell into a slow rhythm with the rock tumbler as he came closer and closer to his own climax.

Pietro tightened his grip on the dark haired boy's hips and arched back with pleasure. He could feel Lance's hands roam his body frantically as the thrusting got faster and more desperate. The speed demon tried to carefully squeeze his muscles together, and in doing so Lance's eyes nearly bulged out of his head and his jaw dropped.

"Awww Pietro!" the older boy whimpered as he emptied himself inside the silver haired teen. All the muscles in his larger body stiffened, and he threw his head back. "Holy Jesus!"

Pietro groaned and wrapped his long legs tightly around Lance's waist in an attempt to pull him forward. Lance all but collapsed across Pietro's torso and panted heavily against the silver haired teen's chest. After a few moments of regrouping together, Lance slowly maneuvered himself out of Pietro and slid lazily to the floor next to him. Without looking at him, Pietro sighed dazedly. "Shit, Lance…that was…"

"Uh huh…" he older boy mumbled into his shoulder. Pietro snorted and reached for the blanket on the couch to drape over their bodies. Lance didn't move when the fabric touched his skin, except to lift his head to regard the speed demon. "I'm glad you're back."

Pietro let a crooked grin spread across his face; it was first genuine one that he'd felt in the past few months. The fear, the burden -- everything felt lifted off his shoulders for the time being. During all that time he just wanted someone to want him - to need him - and whether his time with Lance was going to be long term or not, he felt that his place in the Brotherhood alongside him was a good place to start.

"Me too."


End file.
